Bullets, Bombs and Cups of Tea: Further Voices of the British Army in Northern Ireland 1969-98

By Ken Wharton

This is Ken Wharton's second oral history of the Northern Ireland troubles told again from the perspective of the ordinary British soldier.

This book looks deeper into the conflict, utilising stories from new contributors providing revealing and long-forgotten stories of the troubles from the back streets of the Ardoyne to the bandit country of South Armagh. Ken Wharton - himself a former soldier - is now known and trusted by those who served and they are keen for their part in Britain's forgotten war to now be made public.

For the first time, he tells the stories of the 'unseen victims' - the loved ones who sat and dreaded a knock at the door from the Army telling them that their loved one had been killed on the streets of Northern Ireland. There are more first hand accounts from the Rifleman, the Private, the Guardsman, the Driver, the Sapper, the Fusilier on the street as they recall the violence, the insults and the shock of seeing a comrade dying in the street in front of them. There is an explosive interview with a soldier who killed an IRA gunman who was fresh from the murder of two Royal Artillerymen.

Building on the huge success of Ken's first book, this second volume will provide plenty of new material for the reader to reconsider afresh the role of Britain's soldiers in Northern Ireland.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helion and Company
• Release date: Jul 19, 2009
• ISBN: 9781907677892

Ken Wharton

Ken Wharton is 59 and is resident now in Australia with his partner Helen. Father of seven and grandfather to three with a fourth pending, he is a skydiver and former football referee. He is also a former soldier and now author of three oral histories on the Northern Ireland troubles. He writes from the perspective of the British soldier as he seeks to put across their story of a conflict, largely forgotten by both Government and public, which claimed the lives of around 1300 military lives. / He has only been writing since 2007 but is planning a further oral history of the troubles, a book on the Australians in Vietnam and a childrens' science fiction book over the next year or two. / There is a clamour from veterans of the Northern Ireland conflict to tell their story and ensure that the truth comes out and in Ken Wharton they have found a conduit for those stories and a man they can trust to ensure that the truth is finally told about the conflict which raged not only a short 30 minute flight from home but also on our own doorsteps.

Book preview

What the veterans said … praise for A Long Long War

"A superb job. This story had to be told. What's so important is that he galvanised the many of us to tell our stories – before we got too old and forgot the details – in the memory of our lost comrades and those permantently affected by that long forgotten war. I doubt if any of our politicans will read this book – but they ought to. Ken – thanks from the active and silent voices from A Long Long War."

When Ken contacted me to ask me to publicise what was then a project only little did I know what an excellent read the book would be. One of the few books to tell of the troubles from the soldiers point of view, remarkably frank, a compelling read, politicians should read this before committing soldiers to the front line anywhere.

Over the years the voices of the main protagonists of ‘The Troubles’ were very often heard. The voice perhaps heard least of all was that of the ordinary British soldier, the guy sent over there to try and keep the peace, in what at times was an almost impossible situation. A thankless task for scant reward. What Ken has achieved is a testimony to those who walked the streets and more importantly to those who never came back. Essential Reading !!!!

Awesome – a stunning read. I was one of the 300,000 that served in N.I. and this book is long overdue. If you are going to read one book on the troubles in N.I. then it has to be this one, you will feel the fear, the pain, the worry, the heartache, the joy and the bond of brotherhood felt by of all who served their friends and families.

An excellent and weighty book with stories well worth telling – how it really was for and from those on the ground. Long overdue as memories are already beginning to blur and fade and those that were left behind deserve better. Thanks Ken.

My Dad was a soldier in Ulster and I bought the book for him. He says that it was so real that it brought back the smells and fears of Belfast. He says that it is, without doubt, the best book on the troubles and he has read a few. Good stuff.

Excellent piece of work from a true gentleman. Conveys the professionalism and courage of soldiers working in impossible conditions. Down to earth stories compiled in a practical and interesting manner. First class read.

Helion & Company Limited

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Published by Helion & Company 2009

eBook edition 2011

Designed and typeset by Farr out Publications, Wokingham, Berkshire

Cover designed by Farr out Publications, Wokingham, Berkshire

Printed by Cromwell Press Ltd, Trowbridge, Wiltshire

Text © Ken M. Wharton

Maps of Belfast and Londonderry originally appeared in The British Army in Northern Ireland by Michael Dewar (1985) and are © Weidenfeld & Nicolson, a division of The Orion Publishing Group (London).

Photographs © as individually credited within the book.

Front cover images: (top) ‘Down the Sights’ © Paul Crispin; (bottom) ‘Nowhere to Shop’ © Paul Crispin.

Rear cover image: ‘Poverty the Noose’ © Paul Crispin.

All cover photographs taken in Belfast 1986.

The opinions expressed in the book are those of the individuals quoted and do not necessarily accord with views held by the author or publisher.

ISBN 978-1906033-34-7

eBook ISBN 978-1907677-89-2

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written consent of Helion & Company Limited.

For details of other military history titles published by Helion & Company Limited contact the above address, or visit our website: http://www.helion.co.uk.

We always welcome receiving book proposals from prospective authors.

This book is dedicated to Nell Webster, Mo Norton, Carol Richards, Doreen Gilchrist, Patsy Hurst, Annie Bowman, Marie Hale, Tracey Butcher, Kathleen Gillespie and to Karen and Stevie Rumble. They are eleven remarkable ladies who shared the pain and grief of the soldiers who served in Northern Ireland

To Anne-Marie, Anna-Martina, Jonathan, Jenny, Robbie, Alex and Nathan, my seven wonderful children

To Sherriden, Kelsey and William; my three incredible grandchildren

To my lovely lady, Helen, the Navy brat who turned my life around

To my Jacket mates, Dave Hallam & Darren Ware

To all my many mates in the ‘Jackets’

To Colour Sergeant Ken Ambrose from the best Regiment in the British Army

To my Kings mate, George Prosser who did so much and still continues to give himself to help others

To all those who mastered the art of walking backwards on the streets and lanes of Northern Ireland and especially to those who did it with such style and bravery

To every ‘bullet catcher’ and ‘tail end Charlie’

To every Regiment but a special dedication to

the men and women of the U.D.R.

The people at NIVA who do so much for every Northern Ireland veteran

To the memory of Lieutenant Commander Joseph Geraghty, R.N. (Who would have been my Father-in-Law)

and

To my late mother, Irene Wharton (1929–99)

and my father, Mark Clifford Wharton (1927–2009)

The Death of Robert Curtis

Ask the family not to hate the Irish; neither I nor my daughter chose to be born there; we just were. This is the baby I crawled with, up Hillman Street with the bullets flying; this was the baby born from love; her mum and dad fed Robert Curtis (officially the first British soldier to die in N.I.) his last meal, fish and chips from the Silver Key Chip shop on Duncairn Gardens; with fun, laughter, love and total respect. This was before the IRA took him from this world, so unfairly before he could see his own daughter Jasmine born, 6 months after he was murdered.

Please let the family know we care, and there were others who did, and held her son as a hero in our hearts. He was there to protect us, he made the world a better place for our daughter to be born in, and may God hold him in the Palm of His Hands.

Thank you to all you wonderful boys, who we depended on for some sort of freedom and safety. Your sacrifices were never taken for granted; I know; I have two beautiful grandchildren to prove it.

Doreen Gilchrist, Belfast Resident

Although it is clear that the politicians and policy makers were clueless it is evident that the people on the ‘frontline’ knew the situation. It's a pity they were not listened to at the time; a lot of hurt could have been avoided.

James Henderson, Ulster Defence Regiment

I loved the man I sent to Belfast; I didn't much like the man who came back.

Ruby Hill, former wife of a soldier

The author gratefully acknowledges and endorses the words of the following contributors:

‘To our Members of Parliament, who, through their mismanagement and failure to understand the problems of Northern Ireland, by not allowing the security forces to fight the war, in the way soldiers were trained to do. They gave us ‘yellow cards’, bad equipment, disgusting accommodation, long eighteen hour days for four months, with a mere four days R&R; also to insult us by giving us fifty pence danger money, per day (which was taxable). Thank you, you weak, sniffling, desk-ridden rodents.’

‘To the soldiers who were severely wounded and lost limbs, sight and were severely disfigured, the Government gave you nothing for your suffering. They, the Government, would give thousands of pounds to typists for sitting too long at a computer. Finally, you the politician are detested by 95% of the population and 100% by the soldiers, for whom you have neither respect nor regard for.’

Senior NCO, Royal Highland Fusiliers

‘To all of those who say that Northern Ireland was not a war, try telling those of us who served there. We will tell you different; to us it was, and still is, a war, because it lives with us every day of our lives.’

‘It is a war which still goes on inside of us; try telling the loved ones of those who never came home that it wasn't a war. Try telling any Northern Ireland vet that it wasn't a war; try telling us not to cry when we are on our own. Try telling us not to remember the things that happened; just try for God's sake, to understand. I am a Northern Ireland vet and proud of it.’

Rifleman David Hallam, Royal Green Jackets

‘I have the greatest admiration for the modern soldier who is serving now in Iraq etc, one of them being my next door neighbour, but I think the British Public have forgotten how bad Northern Ireland was and the amount of casualties suffered. I told friends in Liverpool that my daughter was thinking of joining up and the lady was horrified about her going to Iraq, her husband said but her Dad knows all about that having served in Ulster and she then says but that was nothing compared to Iraq. She was speechless when I told her how may had died in Northern Ireland; she thought it had been about 50.’

Mark Chapman, Royal Artillery

‘Looking back now it is quite remarkable, though not surprising in the circumstances, how naïve and ill-prepared we were. But, who could have thought that we were involved in what Ken Wharton has so rightly titled his book A Long Long War and in part of the United Kingdom. If someone had said to me in 1969, that the Army would be on operations in Northern Ireland for almost 40 years, I would have thought them barking mad.’

Major Peter Oakley, King's Regiment

‘I think every day about the lads that didn't come back, and I will never let their names fade; not while I'm alive. I raise a glass on the anniversary of their deaths every year. God Bless You Lads.’

Eddie Atkinson, Green Howards

‘I have always thought that 95% of the people in Northern Ireland were normal law abiding citizens who just wanted to live their lives in peace, terrorised by that remaining 5% percent whose sole pleasure in life was maiming and killing them. My religion is pure heathen but I always had a great deal of sympathy for the downtrodden Catholic minority in Northern Ireland until the IRA took over. It then took me a while to realise what a small minority they were and I would say the same about the so-called loyalist terrorists. Both groups did their best to fan the flames of hatred and keep the war going for as long as it did.’

Ken Ambrose, Royal Green Jackets

Contents

List of photos and maps

Foreword

Author's Personal Notes

Acknowledgements

The Voices

Glossary of Terms

Maps

Introduction

Part One: Belfast

Chapter 1: The ’Murph

Chapter 2: The Turf Lodge

Chapter 3: Andersonstown

Chapter 4: The Falls Road/Springfield Road

Chapter 5: Divis Street/North Howard Street Mill

Chapter 6: The Ardoyne/New Lodge/Crumlin Road/Oldpark Area/Shankhill Road

Chapter 7: Antrim Road

Chapter 8: Central & East Belfast

Part Two: Londonderry

Chapter 9: Londonderry

Chapter 10: The Bogside

Chapter 11: The Creggan

Chapter 12: Rural Londonderry and other areas of the City

Photo essay: ‘Helicopters over Ulster’ by K.A. Boyd

Part Three: Ulster Countryside

Chapter 13: Lurgan/Dungannon/Banbridge

Chapter 14: South Armagh ‘Bandit Country’

Chapter 15: Crossmaglen

Chapter 16: Belleek

Chapter 17: Omagh/Lisburn

Chapter 18: Newry

Part Four: Mainland and European Attacks

Part Five: Soldiers’ Loved Ones

Epilogue

Northern Ireland Roll of Honour (1,188 Military Names)

Poetry from the Troubles

Bibliography

List of Photos and Maps

IRA mural, Ballymurphy Estate (Ken Wharton)

ATO detonate a bomb, Ballygomartin Road (Mark Campbell)

Glenlina Crescent, Ballymurphy, where King's Regiment soldiers Shanley and Rumble were killed by the IRA, 11 April 1979 (Ken Wharton)

Gunner John Swaine, Divis Mountain (John Swaine)

Barrie Lovell, Queen's Regiment, Belfast 1977 (Barrie Lovell)

10 Platoon, C Company, 2nd Battalion The Queen's Regiment, Belfast 1977 (Barrie Lovell)

Private Ali (RRW) meets a local on the Turf Lodge (Royal Regiment of Wales Museum)

Arms found by Joe Harris, Green Howards, Glen Road, Belfast (Joe Harris)

View from the former RUC station at Andersontown; opposite the barbers, which the IRA took over and killed Blues and Royals’ soldiers Thornett and Dykes, 5 April 1979 (Ken Wharton)

RRW and RUC patrol on the Falls Road (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Guardroom at a Belfast base (Dave Bradwell)

Grosvenor Road after rioting (Mark Campbell)

This is where the Springfield Road RUC station once stood (Ken Wharton)

Private Doyle in Beechmounts (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Looking around corners (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Grosvenor Road, Belfast after ‘H’ Block riots (Mark Campbell)

The author stands at the site of the murder of three Green Jackets in 1982 (Ken Wharton)

Sergeant Kirkpatrick on escorts (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

RUC men in the Divis area (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Kids in Divis (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

The author standing by the remains of North Howard St Mill (Ken Wharton)

Yoblets in the making, Divis flats (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

The Divis complex (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Divis Tower sangar (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Private Perry (RRW) at Divis flats (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Arfon Williams, Royal Regiment of Wales, at Boundary Street Sangar, Ardoyne, Belfast 1971 (Arfon Williams)

Royal Artillery getting ready for a riot (Mark Campbell)

Lollipop Patrol, Shankhill (Dave Bradwell)

Grenadier Guards in Agnes Street, Belfast (Dave Bradwell)

Car in which a prison officer was murdered, Crumlin Road (Mark Campbell)

Tea stop on the Shankhill (Dave Bradwell)

Inside Flax Street Mill (Dave Bradwell)

Unity Flats, Shankhill Road (John Swaine)

Gunner John Swaine, Shankhill Road (John Swaine)

Gunners hold back onlookers as a bomb is defused (John Swaine)

Arms find, Shankhill Road (Mark Campbell)

Private West (RRW) – looking for Sinn Fein's advice? (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

St Peter's Church seen from Flax Street Mill (Royal Regiment Wales Museum)

Dave Bradwell at Flax Street Mill (Dave Bradwell)

Flax Street Mill, 1973 (Dave Bradwell)

RCT soldier on the Ardoyne (Phil Morris)

Dave Bradwell at Ligoniel, near the scene of the murder of the three Jocks (Dave Bradwell)

Gunners in Belfast city centre (Joe Jurkiewicz)

Gunner Joe Jurkiewicz RA, Belfast city centre (Joe Jurkewicz)

Royal Artilleryman with civilian searcher, Belfast city centre, c 1973 (Joe Jurkewicz)

Gunner Joe Jurkiewicz RA, Belfast city centre (Joe Jurkewicz)

Gunners on the Loyalist Sandy Row, 1979 (Mark Campbell)

Gunner Joe Jurkiewicz RA, Belfast city centre (Joe Jurkewicz)

Gunner Joe Jurkiewicz RA, Belfast city centre (Joe Jurkiewicz)

Gunner at Belfast city centre security gates (Mark Campbell)

Belfast city centre security gates (Mark Campbell)

Arms find, Markets area (Mark Campbell)

Royal Artillerymen at Fort George, Londonderry, 1973 (Joe Jurkewicz)

Gunner Joe Jurkiewicz RA, Londonderry (Joe Jurkiewicz)

Royal Artillery vehicles at Fort George, Londonderry, 1973 (Joe Jurkewicz)

Gunner Joe Jurkiewicz RA, makes canine friends, Londonderry (Joe Jurkewicz)

Tim Francis (Gunners) in prone position, the Bogside (Tim Francis)

Shantallow, Londonderry, near where Patsie Gillespie was living when used as an IRA proxy bomb (Joe Jurkiewicz)

Shantallow, Londonderry (Joe Jurkiewicz)

VCP, Co Londonderry (Joe Jurkiewicz)

Eddie Atkinson (Green Howards), Lurgan (Eddie Atkinson)

Steve Corbett, Portadown (Steve Corbett)

Steve Corbett, Portadown (Steve Corbett)

South Armagh border (Mark Campbell)

UDR in South Armagh (Mark Campbell)

IRA van after the SAS ambush at Loughall (Richard Smith)

UDR in South Armagh (Mark Campbell)

Forkhill Base, 1980 (Tony Yarwood)

Members of 2 Para at Forkhill, c 1980 (Tony Yarwood)

Members of 2 Para at Forkhill, c 1980 (Tony Yarwood)

Aftermath of IRA attack at Belleek (Dave Henley)

On patrol in Belleek, 1974 (Dave Henley)

Belleek, c1974 (Dave Henley)

Belleek RUC Station (Dave Henley)

Foot patrol in Belleek, c 1974 (Dave Henley)

Dave Henley RTR in Belleek (Dave Henley)

UDR soldier, Co Fermanagh (Mark Campbell)

UDR in South Armagh (Mark Campbell)

Green Howards at Newry (Joe Harris)

Joe Harris (Green Howards) at Newry, 1975 (Joe Harris)

UDR on patrol in Newtownhamilton (Mark Campbell)

UDR, Newtownhamilton (Mark Campbell)

Gunner Terence Griffin, who was killed in the M62 bomb outrage (Mo Norton)

Maps

Northern Ireland

Belfast

Londonderry

South Armagh (‘bandit country’)

Maps of Belfast and Londonderry originally appeared in The British Army in Northern Ireland by Michael Dewar (1985) and are © Weidenfeld & Nicolson, a division of The Orion Publishing Group (London)

Foreword

It is always a pleasure, not often given to me, to write a Foreword for a book written by a former colleague in the same regiment. Ken Wharton and I both served in the late 1960s and early 1970s but we were never in the same battalion. His service in Northern Ireland also ended before mine began in Belfast in 1973. I am hesitant, though, about writing this Foreword as this book and its predecessor A Long Long War are clearly intended to provide an opportunity and outlet for the more junior ranks to tell of their experiences and voice their opinions on service in the Province from 1969-98. It is humbling to read them, not least because it shows that all soldiers, regardless of rank, have hearts, souls and feelings, and that pity and compassion rarely lie far beneath the surface of the seemingly hard exterior that soldiers often misguidedly seek to cultivate. My reservation, however, arises from a fear that a Foreword by a more senior officer may be misplaced. The eloquence with which some contributors have recounted their stories is remarkable and I would not wish in any way to dilute their raw impact with trite comments from a ‘Rupert’.

But it is not just the eloquence of the contributors that is remarkable. It is also the extraordinary single-mindedness and commitment with which Ken Wharton has undertaken a self-imposed task from which others would quickly have shied. I sense that what may have started as a good intention has developed into something bordering upon an obsession. Two volumes so far and I know Ken has plans for more and, as his books become more widely read, no doubt many more willing contributors will step forward seeking to add their voices, new stories and different angles to those already recorded.

Historians, of course, will have every reason to be grateful to Ken in future years. Whether the present peace in Northern Ireland turns out to be lasting or just another punctuation mark in over 300 years of recurring Troubles will not become apparent for very many decades. But what Ken has done is to ensure that the views and experiences of those who served at the sharp end during the 30 years of conflict in Northern Ireland from 1969-98 are recorded for posterity, warts and all. As each year passes and as old soldiers fade away, the significance and value of these accounts will become increasingly important in adding colour to, and often, I suspect, contradicting official histories.

The campaign in Northern Ireland from 1969-98 is often said to have been neither fought nor shaped by senior officers but by corporals, lance-corporals and riflemen. And it was. It was the junior ranks who bore the brunt of the dangers and discomforts which formed a part of the daily diet of military service in the Province, and the taunts and provocations of a population in which it was rarely possible to be sure who was friend or foe. It is unsurprising, therefore, that, as is evident in Bullets, Bombs and Cups of Tea, some resent the lack of reward and recognition accorded their efforts. But for Tommy Atkins it was ever thus. Ours has never been to reason why, but to do and die – a sentiment which sits uncomfortably alongside the long-standing promotion in my regiment of the thinking rifleman. Bullets, Bombs and Cups of Tea and its predecessor A Long Long War suggest that there are and always have been plenty of brave, thinking riflemen in the British Army and, however they may express themselves, there can be no disguising their fears and feelings. Testimony to the fact lies within the 500 pages of this admirable book.

Lieutenant-General Sir Christopher Wallace

January 2009

Author's Personal Notes

Ireceived many letters of praise and thanks from readers and contributors to the first book A Long Long War and I also received other, less than complimentary remarks. The latter I noted and then filed away, but the former, as I write in the introduction to this book, made me feel proud and honoured. The first was from the mother of a soldier, killed, indirectly, by the IRA after the ‘final’ ceasefire and the other was from an Infantry Captain. I reprint them below in no particular order.

Hi, I am Private Andrew Richardson's mam, I have just been looking at your great book and I would just like to say thank you to all involved in reporting the true facts of Andrew's death/murder, and getting him the honour that he so rightly deserved. He was a dedicated soldier and loved every minute of his army life. He is such a great loss to our family; I can't thank everyone enough.

Gloria Richardson, Mother of Private Andrew Richardson

My wife read my contribution and commented that she was very proud of me – which in a way is all the recognition I really wanted. I have to say that the Roll of Honour is the finest of all your achievements in this book. It is an absolute disgrace that the current government, so seduced by paramilitaries, and so focused on ‘peace at any price’ have attempted to dumb down the sacrifice of so many people who gave their lives between and since ceasefires, on operational duty in Northern Ireland

Finally you have made such an important contribution to the process for all of us (as veterans) in recognising for ourselves, the importance of our own achievement. This is just my view, but I would say that in the British Army people do not openly welcome recognition. There is a culture of doing a fantastic job and then outwardly deliberately not talking about it. Its not considered ‘cool’ to either seek or be recognised for a job well done.

This is a culture that the Army would do well to change. The current generation of soldier is, I suspect, needier of recognition and public praise than ever before, and the current conflicts represent challenges and sacrifices which are unprecedented. Don't stop now Ken, crack on and cover Bosnia, Kosovo, Sierra Leone, Iraq and Afghanistan. The veterans have found a voice in your work, and I think that's such a fabulous achievement.

An Infantry Captain

Jon Pilger, the famed Australian journalist, twice wrote to me, in the 1970s, and to echo his own eloquent words, it is support like this, which gives me new heart.

Acknowledgements

Where can I possibly begin in order to correctly thank all those who helped me, encouraged me, and even praised me? How can I possibly prioritise the legions of both former soldiers and civvies without whose help, I couldn't have written my second book on the history of the troubles? I can't; so I won't; the following list is random and suggests no order of seniority whatsoever.

Miss Boothroyd was my teacher at East Ardsley Secondary Modern from 1960–64; she was a martinet, she was rude, she was a disciplinarian of the ‘old school’ but she honed my writing skills and though I hated her at the time, I owe her much. She taught me the word ‘euphemism’ and if ever there was a euphemism, the term ‘troubles’ is one. After I came out of the Army and went to University as a mature student, my next mentor was Zyg Layton-Henry my personal tutor at Warwick University; I was a lazy sod and at a time of turmoil in my life and he helped me so much.

I am sorry that my late mother, Irene Wharton wasn't around when my first book was published because, although a Jehovah's Witness with an absolute abhorrence of violence, she would have been so proud of me.

I have to say profound thanks to Mike Day a photographer extraordinaire for his boundless energy, skills behind the lens and for the non-stop encouragement; Mike was a helper who became a mate and I am pleased to class him as both. George Prosser is a an ex-Kingsman who, even all these years after his last tour of Northern Ireland, tirelessly works himself into the ground as a families’ officer for the Independent King's Regimental Association; I am proud to call him a friend and a comrade.

For obvious reasons, the Royal Green Jackets are my favourite Regiment, and I have to say thank you to Darren Ware – now, I can add, proudly – a published author like myself. He is a cop, but we love you anyway, mate. Lots of Jackets wrote for the book and amongst those who patiently helped me were Ken Ambrose, Kevin Stevens, John Moore, Mick Copp, Tim Marsh and many others. Bless you guys for your support and the trust you have placed in me. Another Jacket, Dave Hallam and his wife Cindy, now happily ensconced in sunny Western Australia have become dear friends and Dave's energy, like Mike Day's, knows no bounds. One day though, mark my words, I will have my revenge on Cindy for dunking me in the Indian Ocean!

Paddy Lenaghan, another bloody Aussie and his wife Josie; thank you for your friendship and all your help; you did so much for me and both books. Thanks to Tommy Clarke, a former member of the Rogues, Cutthroats and Thieves; Tommy, when it came to help and support, you were never found wanting.

To June and ‘Tiny’ Rose; thank you for all your help and kindness. ‘Tiny’ was shot by the IRA in the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast, eventually discharged and then put on the growing list of wounded ex-soldiers forgotten by the Government which sent them to fight and be wounded or die.

Mick ‘Benny’ Hill because the troubles cost you more than physical pain and because your enthusiasm for getting our story out knows no ends. Emma Beaumont, for her work on the AFM wall at the National Arboretum, and for being a source of inspiration for her dedication to preserving the memories of those who fell, and for her selflessness in helping me compile the Roll of Honour in both books.

To Andrew MacDonald of the KORB, a gentleman and a friend and a constant source of new information about the troubles. To Andy, Keith, ‘Onion, ‘Big Stevie’ all of NIVA for their help, contributions and support in both books. Also to my Aldershot Concrete Company comrade, Dave Langston for admitting that he could take good food and turn it into shit in 10 minutes.

Dave Langston, Keith Hudson, Von Slaps, ‘Big Stevie’, ‘Onion’ and Andy Bennett of NIVA; I cannot thank you enough.

James Henderson for his vast contributions to my hitherto limited knowledge of Irish history and the myriad precursors to the troubles. To Roger Payne – another bloody Aussie – for his encouragement and constant offers to rewrite the book. To Arfon Williams and Celia and Martin and Carmel at the RRW museum in Brecon; has any museum done more for me than them? To Ray Gascoyne and Eddie Atkinson of the Green Howards for all their support and encouragement. To my friend, Phil Winstanley, a Medic who survived the IRA's cowardly attack at the Musgrave Park Hospital; thank you.

Geoff Smith; what more can I say about you that was not written in a dozen Army discipline books; his site at www.lightinfantryreunited.co.uk is one of the finest on the Internet. To David Dews, a former Fusilier terribly injured in a helicopter crash in South Armagh; ignored by his Government and his country; you will never be ignored by me, mate.

To a ‘drop short’, John Swaine; John, you may be a Bradford lad but I am honoured to know you, my friend. Kev Wright, a ‘Brummie’ who did so much for this book as well as his mum, Iris, as the Wrights tried to commandeer the second volume!

To Mo Norton; a lady who lost her brother, murdered with others by the IRA on the M62 in Yorkshire in 1974. Mo, you are my friend for life. Mick Pickford, another ‘drop short’ who became a friend and a prolific contributor to the book. To Richard Peacocke a bomb disposal ‘nutter.’ I couldn't have done your job, mate for the entire world; many thanks for all you did. Richard Nettleton, a ‘woodentop’ from Suffolk who never stopped helping me.

To all my friends in beautiful Canada, but especially to my best friend in God's country, Sandie Blair who encouraged me from the first day I met her and to Helen Cheshire for believing in me.

I gratefully acknowledge Jackie Chappell for her kind permission to use ‘Dear Mum; We Kip With Our Boots On’ from the July 30, 1971 edition of The Bath & Wilts Evening Chronicle which is reprinted on page 193.

To Helen MacDonald, my partner, for life – I trust – for her endless patience in helping me proof-read contributions to the book and for being an ‘Author's widow.’

At a lecture in Chelsea, I told my audience that former soldiers were not excomrades; they are just ‘comrades’ and always will be; for life. Thank you to all of you who have contributed and helped with this book and for all the love given to me by my family and friends.

The Voices

(In no special order from first to last)

John Swaine

Dave Hallam

Eddie Atkinson

Darren Ware

Andrew MacDonald

George Prosser

Arfon Williams

Tommy Clarke

Tim Francis

Terry Friend

Doreen Gilchrist

Bob Gallagher

Dave Langston

David Dews

James Henderson

Billy Fitzgerald

Tony Procter

General Sir Peter Graham

Mick Pickford

Ray Mitchell

Kevin Stevens

Stephen Corbett

John Rafferty

Jim Parker

Keith Hazelwood

Ian Mitchell

Malcolm Patinson

Ross Saxby

Steven Larne

Richard Nettleton

Eddie Dixon

Barry Lovell

Kevin Chatfield

Paddy Larkin

Tim Castle

Nick Bagle

Darren Croucher

Alan Borthwick

Alan Bolton

Harry Knight

Phil Hutchinson

Andy Bennett

Lawrence Bowman

Lawrence Jagger

Jim Ward

Jason Benn

Paul Hazelwood

Frank Jones

Dave Bradwell

Colin (Argylls)

Mickey Lee

Kev Flynn

David Wilson

Gloria Richardson

Bill Jones

Lee Sansum

Steve Burke

Haydn Davies

Simon Richardson

Tony Yarwood

Hugh Heap

Tim Marsh

‘Taff’ Fitzgerald

Bob Davies D.C.

Neil Evans

Joe Jurkiewicz

Paul Weston

Mick Copp

Steve Clarke

Ray Mitchell

Ted Edwards

Gerry Butcher

Jimmy Mac

Mike Day

Bill Jones

Rob Colley

Mo Norton

Big Stevie

Mike Davies

John Black

Laura Speers

Annie Bowman

Marie Hale

Geoff Moore

Dave Maltby

Iris Wright

Kevin Wright

Richard Smith

Ken Ambrose

Hilary Reynolds

Mick Hill

Ruby Hill

Bill Callaghan

Lee Wilkins

Peter & Felicity Townend

Stuart Corns

Mr Peter Briscoe

Mrs Sandra Briscoe

Pat Moir

Ken W

‘Bugle’

Jim (‘Argylls’)

Andy Wood

John Girdler

Ian Jones

Peter Oakley

Mark Chapman

David Henley

David Creese

Brian Baskerville

Brian Smith

Gareth Dyer

Graham ‘Onion’

(Well, that's what he says!)

Roy Banwell

Von Slap

Tracy Abraham

Kevin Gorman

Liz Burns

Sue Hanisch

Alan Holborough

Carney Lake

Dougie Durrant

Simon Hodges

Gary Smith

Brian Aitken

Kathleen Gillespie

Gary ‘A’

And the twenty who wanted to be anonymous

Glossary of terms

* Merged into R.L.C. 1993

Maps

1. Northern Ireland

2. Belfast

3. Londonderry

4. South Armagh (‘bandit country’)

Introduction

Some time ago – it feels like a lifetime now – I began writing a book about the role and experiences of the British soldier in Northern Ireland during the course of the somewhat euphemistically named ‘troubles.’ This book – like that one – will be a collection of voices from the soldiers who fought in Britain's forgotten war.

During the lifespan of ‘Operation Banner’ some 300,000 squaddies served in the Province. The numbers of those killed in, or as a result of, the events connected with the troubles were comparatively low; officially 731, unofficially, well over 1,300. Indeed, the admirable Northern Ireland Veterans Association (NIVA) lists the names of 1300 military personnel who died in, or as a result of, the troubles. It is my intention, my goal, to one day, produce a definitive Roll of Honour thus showing the scale of deaths, indeed, what the late writer, Charles Whiting referred to, with a tired irreverence as the ‘butcher's bill.’ Comparatively low, as I said, that is, to the mandarins of Whitehall, to the compilers of such statistics, but agonisingly high to ladies like Carol Richards, Mo Norton, Karen Rumble or Nell Webster. Too high, in fact, to the wives and mothers, the fathers and lovers and the brothers and sisters of those 1,300 plus men and women.

Remember this also; during the long and bloody course run by the troubles, in Ulster, one family in six had a close relative killed or injured. One person in every eleven actually witnessed a shooting.

In the grand scheme of things, the casualty figures for the British Army during the course of the troubles were indeed low, certainly, that is, compared with the unprecedented and almost casual slaughter on the Western Front. Take one day in isolation – admittedly the worst day – and look at the figures on July 1, 1916. On the first day of Haig's Somme offensive, British and Empire forces (British, Canadian, and ANZAC) suffered a sickening 57,470 losses. These figures include a staggering 19,240 soldiers killed and 35,493 wounded, with 2,739 missing; in a single day! On D-Day, in 1944, on a single beach, the Americans lost over 2,000 men and at Gallipoli in 1915, the Australians alone suffered the loss of almost 1,000 men on the first day alone.

Viewed in the context of those figures, losses over the period of fewer than 30 years seem light. Light that is, until we remember the grief suffered by the families of those c. 1,300 men and women, light until we remember that, other than the Falklands campaign, Britain was not at war with anyone. Light also, when we remember that they were sustained a few dozen miles away from the mainland on the streets of the United Kingdom.

Almost 6,000 of my former comrades were injured; many physically, but many emotionally. During the course of the research for the first volume, I had the honour of meeting many ex-squaddies and some of them were injured in explosions and shootings. But I also met those who had been damaged psychologically and within seconds of meeting them, I could sense this and my respect for them grew exponentially. Several of them told me that it was an honour to meet me and that they were honoured to be included in my book. Gentlemen, the honour was mine; it was all mine.

That first book dealt with a squaddie's eye view of the events on a year by year basis and it told the story in strict chronological order from 1969 through to 1998. Each year unfolded through their stories and were linked by one factor: the timeline in which their stories took place. This volume deals with specific events, specific places and specific experiences but again, the men of Britain's forgotten war will tell their story. A common thread throughout, was the complaint, or possibly, observation, that we fought this war like no other; in that, we fought it with one hand tied behind our backs. We knew who the IRA/INLA ‘players’ were and they knew that we knew, but we couldn't do anything.

One Infantry officer wrote to me and expressed the frustration felt by virtually all who served in the Province. Namely, that had we been the SS or some tin pot South American military junta, we would have been ruthless and soon destroyed the terrorists. That we weren't – and didn't – is a tribute to our integrity, honour and professionalism. As always, the politicians of all major parties sat back and watched soldiers die with a monotonous and tragic regularity and did nothing. I name no specific party, because with varying degrees, British troops were sent over the Irish Sea to fight and die by Harold Wilson, Edward Heath, James Callaghan, Margaret Thatcher, John Major and Tony Blair.

During my childhood, I was raised on a diet of war stories – both First and Second World Wars – and the occasional black and white movie which led me to appreciate that the British soldier was the finest in the world. Not so numerous as the Red Armies of the USSR and China, not so bitter and back-to-the-wall as the Israelis and nothing like as well equipped as the American. But, nonetheless; the finest Army on this globe. I joined the British Army as a 17 year old in 1967 and none of my experiences subsequent to that event have dissuaded me from that assertion; that assertion being that the Tom, the squaddie, the ‘nig’, as the Royal Green Jackets call their new recruits, right before they eat them, has no match on the face of this Earth. I interviewed men from Regiments with long and proud histories; the aforementioned ‘Jackets’ the Parachute Regiment, the Black Watch, King's Own Borderers, the Guards Regiments, the Royal Regiment of Wales, the Green Howards, the Glosters, the Kings, the Cheshires et al with far too many to mention.

These were all proud, county regiments which tended to recruit from specific geographical areas, thus retaining that ‘local’ feel, almost as emotional as the ‘Pals’ battalions of the so-called ‘Great War’ as groups of lads enlisted together, trained together, fought together and, in their droves, died together. In that quite excellent BBC comedy ‘Black Adder Goes Forth’ written by Ben Elton, one of the characters, the diminutive and unspeakably filthy ‘Baldrick’ proudly relates how he joined up with the ‘workhouse Pals.’ Whilst this was pure comedy – or was it, for, how many of you have wiped tears from your eyes at that final, poignant scene – the reality was starker. The Hull Pals, the Leeds Pals, the Hunslet Pals, the Accrington Pals et al, cheerfully marched off to the slaughter of the Somme, Ypres and dozens of unpronounceable French towns and villages. Our county regiments were the envy of the world and were copied by our colonial cousins in Canada and other countries.

When one looks at the bland, colourless names of the fighting regiments of the United States – the 1st, the 2nd, the 3rd, etc – and then compares them with the names of our long gone regiments, there is an abyss of difference. Imagine the pride of lads who had served with The King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, the West Kents, the Devon and Dorsets, the Argyll and Sutherlands, the Royal Anglians and the South Wales Borderers? These were Regiments of the line whose battle honours reflected a myriad number of campaigns over many centuries over parts of the globe from Québec to Singapore. On my own first day in the Army, I was informed, proudly, that men from my Regiment had fought with Wolfe and had stormed the Heights of Québec in his vanguard. Never forget our Corps; Corps of Pioneers, Signals, Transport et al, because in Northern Ireland, we were ALL front-line troops. In Belfast there were no ‘tail’ troops; only those with teeth.

Successive British Governments in their wisdom (author's own italics) saw fit to reduce the Army, to ‘slim’ it down and destroy our wonderful County identities. In the opening to this book, a Scottish Sergeant – a man I met personally and sat in awe as he recounted his story – describes politicians as being ‘weak, sniffling, desk-ridden rodents.’ I wholeheartedly and absolutely endorse his words.

In August, 1969, having sat on their collective hands, the weak and prevaricating British government led by Harold Wilson sent troops onto the streets of Northern Ireland for the first time. Its role was to keep the warring sectarian factions apart, restore law and order to the streets where anarchy ruled and to protect the downtrodden Catholic population. One Welsh soldier told his wife, when greeted by the news that troops were going in, that it would never happen. But if it did, it would be all over by Christmas. Where did we hear those words before? 1914? 1939? 1950 perhaps, as Britain's National Servicemen sailed off to Korea? Major Hardy, when you used those words to me in a museum in Brecon, several lifetimes ago, you were almost 40 years out, but, sir, you were there and you did your part and I am honoured to have met you.

Initially, the troops were greeted by a relieved Catholic community, a community held down by years of Protestant and Unionist domination. Second best in housing, in education, in jobs and even in the voting arena. Rioting and lawlessness and the brutality of the infamous ‘B’ Specials had left a violent vacuum of power; law and order had ceased to function. Once order was restored, thanks to the professional impartiality of the squaddies, the Catholics relaxed and out came the tea cups and sandwiches and plates of biscuits. The Protestants watched in sullen silence and trouble was brewing. Within months, those same Catholic women had swapped cups of tea for buckets of urine and used sanitary towels thrown from upstairs windows and the sandwiches were replaced with rocks and petrol bombs; and, before too long, by the .303, the Armalite and, soon enough, the .50 calibre bullet.

British soldiers began to die and continued to die at an alarming rate and, from being the first item on the BBC and ITV nightly news, the death of a soldier soon rated no more than a brief mention just before the latest sports news as the programme drew to an end. When the three young ‘Jocks’ of the Royal Highland Fusiliers were murdered at Ligoniel in 1971, proudly resplendent in their No 1 dress uniforms, their innocent faces were splashed across most dailies of the time. The photos of the increasing number of fallen soon began to be relegated to the inner and central pages and soon, the death of a soldier in Northern Ireland would merit merely a small paragraph or two, well away from the ‘acceptable’ news of the day.

During the early days of the Great War, the Times ran a daily obituary listing the dead of the trenches; very soon, the lists became untenable and morale on the Home front was being eroded so they ceased. On a less grand a scale, the lists of Ulster dead soon took on the same, albeit smaller, dimensions.

This series of accounts will look at the life and death struggles of the soldiers on the streets of Belfast and Londonderry; on the country lanes around Crossmaglen, Belleek, Lisnaskea, and Bessbrook Mill. It will look at their experiences on the vast sprawling Republican estates of the ‘Murph, Turf Lodge, Andersonstown, the Ardoyne, Shankhill, in Belfast and the terrorists’ breeding grounds of the Bogside and the Creggan in Londonderry. It will examine the roles and the dangers of being a member of that magnificent fighting force, the Ulster Defence Regiment. To some of the readers, the very mention of the words ‘Murph, Turf Lodge, Derrybeg, Creggan et al will mean much to them both emotionally and probably physically; to others they are just ‘areas.’ But imagine if you lived in Leeds and the Turf Lodge was replaced by Gipton, or to a Mancunian and we substitute Andersonstown for Moss Side, or a Bristolian and St Pauls replaces the Creggan Estate; get the picture? We were fighting a war on our own streets and the British Government didn't seem to give a tinker's cuss for all that was happening there.

It will also look at attacks by the IRA on soldiers, airmen and their families on the streets of England and on the European mainland. It will, for the first time, feature the unseen victims, the loved ones of the men just a few dozen miles away across the Irish Sea. Those who waited for the Casualty Visiting Officers (CVOs) to draw up outside their house, generally flanked by the local policeman and a neighbour ‘to make a cup of tea’ and deliver the news which they didn't want to hear, refused to hear; that their son or husband had been killed in Belfast or Londonderry or Crossmaglen. Those of us who served can never begin to understand the anguish in the hearts of those who loved us as we bade farewell for possibly the last time. During the last war, it was the GPO Telegram boy who delivered the shocking news in an inoffensive-looking brown envelope; during the troubles we had ‘progressed’ to the CVO.

Had Mrs Rachel Hardy a clue of what would happen to her Light Infantry son David as he returned to Ireland from leave and would catch a bus for Omagh, a bus which was destined to go no further than Ballygawley? Did Mo Norton know that she would never see her beloved brother Terrence again as he went off to catch a bus over the M62? Did Carol Richards, then Ware, know that she would only have one, albeit glorious, year with her Coldstream Guards husband, Simon Ware? The pain in their hearts is reflected in the pages of the book which deals with the loved ones.

This section will show the human tragedy, the emotional cost and grief which the newspapers or the television news could not portray which lay behind the simple words: ‘In Northern Ireland, another British soldier has been killed.’

Let us not forget also, that there were and still are, some lovely people in Northern Ireland; to this day, I will never forget the mainly women who brought us cups of tea, sandwiches and biscuits and the people who shed tears not only at the death of a young soldier, but also at the destruction of their country. If peace lasts – and I pray that it does – then this will be for all those decent, law abiding citizens whose blood was spilt alongside three generations of soldiers.

The IRA was not a motley crew of red-haired, country bumpkins, with charming picture book Irish accents and armed with obsolete World War I weapons. They were an implacable, increasingly professional, terrorist organisation, backed in the main by the Irish-Americans and they were very good at doing what they did best; killing us. They had no qualms, no consciences and they thought that a pious apology after an innocent civilian had been caught in the crossfire would suffice. They were a very difficult enemy to take on and overcome because they didn't care who got in the way. Make no mistake; they were amongst the most difficult foe that the British Army has ever had to take on.

The British Army went into Ulster on August 14, 1969 and they were greeted by cups of tea and biscuits. Hopefully this book will help bridge the gap between those welcoming cups of tea and biscuits and the eventual bombs, bullets and, ultimately, coffins.

At the Peace centre in Warrington during the writing of this second book, I had the honour of meeting some UDR/RUC men and their families from Co Tyrone and they told me much about their experiences of the troubles. I said to one of them that Ulster and the troubles had been like a dream – albeit one of the nightmare variety – but one which had lasted for most of my life. I was 19 when it started and almost 50 when it ended; if it was a dream, I was thanking God when I finally woke up. Andrew Edwards of BBC Radio Leeds who interviewed me just before I went to St Pauls Cathedral, for the Commemoration of Op Banner said something interesting to me. He said of the troubles: ‘Sometimes, Ken, I have to pinch myself that it's all over.’ Andrew, sometimes I have to pinch myself that it ever started.

This book will continue to pay tributes to the squaddie which began in volume one. It will continue, as before, to be unashamedly pro-Squaddie; I couldn't possibly write anything which wasn't. I think that I might have to bite off my own right arm before I could be negative about my magnificent comrades.

Ken Wharton, North Yorkshire June, 2008

I think it's great that the boys coming back from Iraq, Afghanistan are getting the recognition they so deserve, but what about us? We when came back, nobody ever gave a f*ck about us. When I saw the cold blooded, evil murderers walk free from jail thanks to the Good Friday agreement, I thought, that's it for them, it's over, and they can start fresh. But what about me, what about us? I still bear the scars and I won't ever be freed from that.

When I got to the Regiment, I was allocated to John Watson's team. I didn't know who John was, but he had a great reputation. John was a quiet man; he kept himself to himself and enjoyed a laugh just like the rest of us. Now, John took on lot of responsibility by having a new guy to the Regiment put in his team. I'd like to think I never let him down as he certainly never let me down. Besides, you would know if you did, as I have previously mentioned, John was a quiet man. And a man like John would put the fear of God in you by the ‘John Watson’ look. That was his thing; he only had to look at you.

I was blessed by being part of his team in Belfast and there is not one day I regret by not keeping in touch with him. Something that I know now is impossible. John was taken by cancer 2004. So, John; thanks big man. I would like to dedicate all my words that I contribute in this book to you.

Mick Pickford, Royal Artillery

The bloody Government made us fight the IRA with one hand tied behind our backs and then both hands and then, eventually they blindfolded us as well.

Rifleman, Royal Green Jackets

To the civvie with whom I worked, whom the libel laws prohibit my naming; the one who sneered at our efforts in Ulster; just thank God you never had to go.

Ken Wharton

Part One: Belfast

Belfast: from the Irish: Béal Feirste meaning ‘Mouth of the (River) Farset’ is the seat of government in Northern Ireland. It is the largest urban area in Northern Ireland and the province of Ulster. To many of the troops who served there, it was known as ‘Bloody Belfast.’

Although in this section we will re-walk the same streets that countless soldiers walked, we will not have to dodge the hurled urine and excrement, the lobbed nail and petrol bomb or the aimed round from the Armalite, but we will visit the main hotspots of this once great shipbuilding city. This was the city which the IRA and INLA and the UVF and UFF chose as their main battleground and the city where most blood was spilt during the long, tortuous and murderous troubles. The major areas of violence were to be found in the west of the city, to the north and around the city centre. Walk with me around the city where so many fell.

Chapter 1

The ’Murph

The Ballymurphy Estate, or the ’Murph as it was known to a succession of squaddies posted to the west part of Belfast, is a moderately large, sprawling, post war council estate. It was a rundown area of the box-style housing favoured by countless city councils throughout the British Isles. George Prosser (ex-King's Regiment) described it as a ‘rabbit warren of houses’ as it was full of bolt holes for the fleeing gunman and the like.

Rather like the

Reviews for Bullets, Bombs and Cups of Tea

[stephendross · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

First hand accounts of what it was to serve in Northern Ireland during operation banner. The book pulls no punches and nothing can replace first hand experience of the hostility and hatred faced by soldiers placed on the streets to do their job. You cant really appreciate the cost and impact to those who served at the time and in subsequent life until you read a book like this. Its not "sterlised" to say what others thought it was like or would like you to believe it was. Another excellent book collated by Ken Wharton and I commend it to any reader who wants a balanced view of the troubles.